


Bye, Bye, Birdie

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [47]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Married Life, Older Man/Younger Woman, Parent-Child Relationship, Size Difference, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Alan rescues a bird from the harsh London winter.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Child, Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Bye, Bye, Birdie

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

"Aly!"

Alan calls as he enters their toasty London flat. He adjusts his scarf around his neck with his free hand, swallowing to wet his dry throat.

He hates the fucking winters in England. He's always the first one to get a cold. If you think his voice is deep on the regular, you should hear him when he's sick.

"Aly-bear!"

"Yes, Da-ay?" The two-year-old trots his way, coming from the kitchen.

She's the epitome of a typical London babe in her black tights, cream corduroy dungaree dress and white long sleeve turtleneck undershirt. Her chubby neck is kept warm by a knitted Trotters scarf, her outfit rounded off by a pair of leather brown Mary Janes.

"What you have?" She asks inquisitively as she clutches Paddington under her arm, approaching Alan.

"Come, see," he bends down as he slowly opens the shoebox that he carried in with him.

He unwraps his blue and red scarf and places it next to him on the wooden floor.

Cautiously, Alyson approaches and peers into the shoebox with big chestnut eyes.

"A bi-die!" She exclaims in excitement, her face beaming.

"I found it outside in the cold. Do you want to feed it?"

"Uh-huh," she nods her head enthusiastically.

With a grunt, and pushing against his thigh for support, Alan pulls himself upright before taking off his navy sports jacket and placing it and the scarf on the coat rack.

"Good morning," (Y/N) chirps cheerily over the sizzling of breakfast pans, as she sees Alan leading Alyson into the kitchen.

He quickly walks over to her, placing a quick peck on her cheek, "Look what we have."

She nibbles on a piece of bacon as she looks over her shoulder to where Alan places the box on the breakfast nook's wooden tabletop.

He lifts Alyson onto his lap and peers over her head as they open the box again, revealing the small screeching baby bird.

"Is hungry," Alyson notes as the bird flaps its wings while opening its beak wide.

"I think so," Alan chuckles at his young tod's deductive reasoning.

He lets her watch the bird in awe as he scavenges some wheat porridge from the pantry, quickly mixing up a small amount in a plastic syringe.

"Here, I think it will eat this," he says to Alyson as he places her on his lap again.

(Y/N) watches in adornment as Alan meticulously helps Alyson feed the bird in small amounts.

"Where did you find it?" (Y/N)'s eyes squint in concentration as she flips over a bubbling egg-over-easy.

"I found it in the garden square. I looked around if I could spot its mother, but no other birds were in sight. The wind must've blown it from its nest."

"Oh, poor thing!" She coos.

"He so cute!" Alyson giggles excitedly as she looks up to her mother across the kitchen.

"Would you like to hold him?" Alan offers before placing the empty syringe on a piece of paper towel.

"Mm-scared," Alyson mumbles shyly as she cowers into Alan's side.

"No need to be. Look, Daddy will help you."

He gently picks up the bird and it immediately wraps its feet around Alan's thick forefinger. At first, he lets Alyson get comfortable by petting the bird. Slowly, he transfers the small creature into her awaiting hand.

He takes delight in how her tiny face beams with excitement and pride.

"He so pwetty," Alyson squeals.

"I'm going to go see what type of bird it is," Alan walks out into the living room.

He fingers each spine of the large collection of books propped in the bookshelves before he pulls out _The London Bird Atlas._

He slides into the wooden bench again before flipping through the pages.

"What it say, Da-ay?" Alyson peers curiously over at him as she clutches the bird carefully against her chest.

"Hmmm, it looks like it's a baby dunnock," his eyebrows furrow as he concentrates on the words on the page.

"Can we keep it, pwetty pwease?" Alyson begs.

Alan looks up at his wife which gives a small shrug of her shoulders and a nod in confirmation.

"Says here we'll need to feed it every five hours. You up for that?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!"

(Y/N) chuckles at her young daughter's determination, "Okay, I need to feed my babies, too. How about you both come help me dish up, please?"

Alan helps Alyson put the bird back into the box before safely putting it on a cleared countertop.

"Go wash hands," he instructs Alyson before the toddler trots to the guest bathroom.

"Smells delicious," he walks up behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her plump body from behind.

"You know, I don't want to sound misogynistic, but there's something ab-so-lute-ly sexy about you wearing an apron," he breathes lowly into her ear, sweeping her light brown shoulder-length hair falling out in the back where she has it in a high ponytail, away to the side.

With utmost care, he places wet kisses on the base of her neck, sending chills up her spine.

She never thought she'd look sexy in an apron, but wearing it definitely makes her feel some kind of something. Something nurturing; something loving; something kick-ass.

But indeed, her unraveled rolled up ankle jeans and her long red plaid dress-shirt makes her look comfy with an edgy feel. What Alan is referring to, though, is the way the red floral apron cinches in her small waist while accentuating her voluptuous curves.

"Stop it, Al. I won't be able to find a babysitter in time if this were to escalate," she jokes while slapping him on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Here, grab a plate."

"You're no fun," he breathes lustfully as he takes the plate containing a steaming hot breakfast sandwich.

She discards the apron, much to Alan's disappointment, before grabbing both her and Alyson's plates and carrying it over to the breakfast nook.

Three days have passed since Alan heroically saved the tiny dunnock - three days of London's coldest winter to date.

"Mumma?"

"Yes, my sweet?" (Y/N) looks up from her laptop as she sits on the corner couch with her ice-cold feet tucked under her.

"Have you seen Bi-die?" She scampers up onto the caramel brown leather couch and nestles into her mother's side under the blanket. 

"I have not - do you want me to ask Daddy?"

After receiving a confirming nod from Alyson, she shoots Alan a text.

_Where did the birdie go? A is anxious to feed it again._

_Bad news. Unfortunately, the birdie passed away last night. AR._

(Y/N) gasps inaudible before she swallows back the tears.

_Oh, God, what do you mean?!_

_Well, I fed it last night and it was fine. When I went downstairs this morning, birdie was no longer breathing. AR._

_Damnit._

_Birds are hard. Especially wild ones. AR._

_Did it seem normal and ate normally last night when you fed it?_

_Yes. Was chirping and ate fine. AR._

_Sigh. What will we tell A?_

_The truth - that the mother bird came to get it. AR._

_ASPR, we cannot lie to our daughter!_

_She's going to be devastated if she knew the truth - you know that. It will shatter her tiny heart to bits. AR._

Alan is right. For the past three days, Alyson hasn't let the baby bird out of her sight. She was present for every feeding, and with the help of Alan, the two of them weaved a make-do nest for it. In the evenings, she even cuddled with the bird in front of the telly. Alyson has grown attached to the bird and is going to be inconsolable.

_Yes, I know. But it's an important life lesson that she needs to learn. Where are you anyway?_

_On the toilet. AR._

_Well, hurry up so you can come help wipe away tears._

"Darling, Mummy and Daddy need to talk to you," (Y/N) closes her laptop and moves it to an empty seat next to her as she sees Alan approach the two on the couch.

"I hope you lit a candle after you were done," (Y/N) chastises him as his arm rests on the back of the couch, behind Alyson.

"I sprayed some air freshener, relax."

"Aly, Daddy has something to tell you," (Y/N) says calmly as she runs her hand through Alyson's sandy brown hair.

Alan's eyes shoot up at his wife, shocked that he would be the one to deliver the bad news. He clears his throat before covering all three of them with the blanket.

"Well... ahem... darling... This morning, I went to check up on the birdie and it turns out that it was by far too cold during the night. Birdie unfortunately didn't make it, sweetheart."

"Bi-die went bye-bye?" Her voice slightly cracks.

Both parents prepare themselves for the oncoming waterworks.

"Yes, darling, Birdie went bye-bye," (Y/N) reiterates.

"Wif-out saying bye-bye to me?" Her bottom lip trembles as tears leak out of her sad eyes.

She clutches Paddington against her neck as she starts crying.

"Oh, darling," Alan scoops her up against his chest, "I'm sure Birdie would've wanted to say bye-bye to you if it could. But we can always bury it and have a little funeral for it."

"Where do you want to bury it? We have no backyard," (Y/N) whispers.

"We can bury it in a pot plant out back," he counters in a whisper, too, rubbing his daughter's shaking back as she continues crying.

(Y/N) adjusts her own coat collar to keep out the ice-cold wind before making sure Alyson's coat is buttoned all the way, as she adjusts the toddler on her hip.

Alan finishes covering the small box with soil in the pot of roses before taking a stand next to his wife and daughter.

"He'll make great compost for the roses," Alan mumbles under his breath before sniffing from the cold.

(Y/N) looks at him in disbelief before rubbing at Alyson's back as the toddler rests her head on her mother's shoulder, Paddington dangling from her grip.

"I guess you better say a few words then," she encourages him.

Alan clears his throat, moving from one foot to another.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the short life of Birdie... Uhm..."

Giving a eulogy for a bird is much harder than for a person, he has to admit. He's practically rehearsed in eulogies, judging from the number of funerals he has spoken at already, but nothing prepared him for this. He has to keep his daughter's feelings in mind.

"He was always a cheerful little Birdie - always hungry, always ready to snuggle. May he rest in peace knowing that his last days were filled with love and care from his favourite little girl - Alyson."

Just then a flock of chirping dunnock birds flies over them, the three of them looking up at the bright blue London sky.

"Bye-bye, Bi-die. Love you," Alyson croaks as she waves goodbye at the flock with her tiny pudgy hand.


End file.
